as sharp as any Shade owned himself. ‘Don’t let it out of the net. Just take it off somewhere. You’ve killed before.’ Hare, a small calf; any Pretani child had to become used to killing. ‘Do it quickly and it won’t suffer.’
‘I can’t.’
‘You must,’ Knot said. He looked up bravely at Shade. ‘I’ll help her carry it away. Am I allowed to do that? She’ll have to kill it herself, of course.’
He was so young himself, but he seemed to care for Acorn. His presence would be a comfort for the girl. ‘Get it done. Then come straight back to the clearing. All right?’
‘Yes,’ both Acorn and Knot mumbled.
‘Come on,’ Shade said to Resin and Bark. ‘What a start to the day.’ He strode off, leading the others back towards the camp. He deliberately didn’t look back at his daughter.
78
The Leafy child in the sack was heavy, but it wasn’t difficult for Acorn and Knot to drag him across the ridge.
The Leafy didn’t fight or struggle. He seemed to be reassured by Acorn’s presence. He obviously had no idea what he was being led to. It was all very sad, Knot thought.
Which made him clear in his own mind about what he was going to do.
They reached a small stand of windblown trees. They laid the child down on the leaf-strewn ground at the foot of a twisted oak, and looked at each other, panting. Acorn had been in control in front of her father, but she was angry now. ‘Why are you still here? Come to make sure I do what my father told me?’
That stung him. ‘No. Nothing like that. Have you got your knife?’
She dug it out from under her tunic. It was slung on her waist from a leather belt. ‘I always have to carry it, my father says.’
‘Can I see?’
She handed it over. He hefted it, considering. It was the best-made knife he’d ever handled. Then he crouched down and began to cut at the net, slicing through one braid after another.
Acorn was shocked. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Solving the problem.’ He dug out his own knife, and passed hers back. ‘Here. Help me. Cut over there. The sooner we can get him out of here the better.’
She stared for one heartbeat, then dropped to her knees and began to saw at the net.
Between them they soon had it cut open, and they pulled it back from the Leafy Boy. The child sat up and stared at them both. Knot made a false lunge. ‘Go, go!’
The child quailed. For an instant Knot thought he might run to Acorn again. But some deeper instinct cut in, and he ran off in a blur of motion, scampering up the nearest tree like a squirrel.
Acorn laughed. Then she held her cheeks in dismay. ‘What have we done? If they find out-’
‘They won’t.’
‘But what if he goes back to find the other Leafies? When he turns up alive back in the clearing-’
‘He’d have to cross open ground to get back, and a Leafy wouldn’t do that.’ Then he held his breath, hoping against hope that she wouldn’t ask any more questions. He had no idea how this little boy was going to survive, alone. Let her work that out for herself, later; she was a year younger than he was. For now this was all he could do for the child, and for her.
She smiled, and his heart thumped. ‘Thanks-’
A dead leaf crackled. Obeying an ancient instinct he put his hand over her mouth, his finger to his lips.
Then, together, they turned, and crept silently through the little copse towards the source of the noise. It surely wasn’t anything dangerous, he told himself, his heart hammering. A deer, maybe. A young calf. Maybe a squirrel making an early start on its nut cache.
But now he heard voices, male tones murmuring. People. He saw the horror on Acorn’s face. Had they been followed? Was their defiance of Shade already betrayed?
He hushed Acorn again and crept further forward alone, deeper into the copse, letting his eyes adjust to the leafy shade. And there, beyond a screen of trees, he saw two men. One he recognised: it was the Eel-folk slave, True, the clever one who helped the Pretani men organise the others. The other he didn’t recognise. It was a younger man with a strange tattoo on his bare belly, three circles around the navel cut through by a vertical line. They were talking urgently, but very quietly.
They were hiding, keeping some secret, just as he and Acorn were.
He waited, scarcely breathing, until they were done. At last they nodded to each other, broke away, and left the copse, True heading back towards the Pretani’s clearing.
Knot came back to Acorn. She was sitting on the ground near the ruin of the net, legs folded under her. He described what he’d seen.
She frowned, a crease appearing in the perfect skin between her eyes. ‘Something’s wrong,’ she said. ‘True’s a slave. He shouldn’t be sneaking around like that.’
Knot said, ‘We can’t tell anyone.’
‘We have to-’
‘We can’t! If we do they will come here to check, and they’ll find no Leafy Boy bones. They’ll know we lied!’ And while Acorn might be spared by her father, he knew he would be punished severely.
‘But True and the man-’
‘Maybe it was nothing,’ he said. ‘What can one slave do to harm your father and all his hunters?’ He covered her hands with his. ‘Let’s forget we ever saw this. Now, come and help me trap a hare or something. We should spill some blood on ourselves to make it look real.’
Subdued, barely talking, they made their way out of the little copse and back towards the clearing.
79
‘Talk to me,’ Dolphin snapped.
Wise just looked at her.
Barefoot, he walked in the wet sand close to the sea’s shallow, lapping edge. He had a basket hung around his neck full of the cockles he’d been picking from the exposed rocks. His two wives and four children combed the beach with him, the children laden with their own small baskets. Gulls wheeled, competing for the food, but they scattered when the children clapped their hands.
It was noon, and still summer, only a couple of months after the solstice, an oppressive, colourless time of year, and though the sun was obscured by a lid of cloud the heat by the sea was intense.
One of the children splashed another, accidentally, and they giggled together, just like kids playing on a beach. But one of the women muttered a soft word in the tongue of the Eel folk, and they glanced uneasily at Dolphin, and fell silent.
Still Wise did not reply.
Dolphin snapped again, ‘Talk to me, or may the little mother of the sea drown you in her wrath.’
He glanced at his family. ‘Scaring children,’ he said in his softly accented traders’ tongue. ‘Walk.’ Still bending to pick cockles off the rocks, he turned and walked slowly away from the children.
She fumed, but followed. ‘You wouldn’t talk to a Pretani that way, would you?’
‘You are not Pretani,’ he said simply. ‘Will talk take long?’
‘What?’
He gestured at the rocks. ‘Pretani don’t feed us meat any more. Too many of us. We have fruits of sea. But we are hungry – we work hard – children growing. Shellfish not-’ He tapped his belly, running out of words. ‘They leave you hungry. We must gather many, many shells. Soon the tide will turn, rocks covered-’ ‘We know.’
He shifted the pack on his shoulder; she saw the leather strap was rubbing his bare skin raw. ‘Know
